


Vanity

by DT Maxwell (Draya)



Series: Our Blades Are Sharp [14]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Phae would like this question answered, Sith Shenanigans, Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, the turnover rate of researchers in the sphere is disturbingly high, why do they all think the safety protocols don't apply to them?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, <em>Phae Needs a Goddamn Vacation</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanity

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr](http://dragons-bones.tumblr.com/post/67434164883/swtor-vanity-or-phae-needs-a-goddamn-vacation) in November 2013.
> 
> Sith believe they are infallible. Phae can give you an ever-growing list of why that isn't true.
> 
> (As always, the briefly mentioned Darth Valere belongs to infiniteprobabilities.)

Darth Makhaira stared down at her dress in disgust. This was why she needed to get off Dromund Kaas as soon as possible for a few months and rob tombs or assassinate Republic officials or some other stress relief. Maybe harass her sisters. Teach her daughter how to use a knife. Let Arty and Dea play doting aunt to Xalla while Phae and Andronikos destroyed another penthouse suite with their enthusiasm. _Something_ fun. Trying to get the alchemy division into some semblance of order was like herding manka cats and it was playing havoc on both the wardrobe she’d splurged on when she had been elevated to the rank of Darth _and_ her sanity.

Honestly, was it really _that_ hard to observe safety protocols? If he’d just stood the required five feet away and used a droid to activate the last lock on the puzzle box, Lord Yunrosh would have had a much better day. He could have kept his _head,_ for example.

And instead she now had blood and grey matter on her favorite black velvet dress with the purple silk lining. (Her thigh-high boots, made of buttery soft nerfhide, had at least escaped unscathed.) Ugh. _Why_ did the lab mishaps always happen on the days she wanted to wear something pretty? Hells, why did impromptu breakthroughs that required her _immediate_ attention always happen on the days she strutted into the Citadel in her favorite clothes?

Absolutely ridiculous.

Darth Makhaira muttered a curse as she thumbed her commlink to call in the clean-up team and strode out of the laboratory, deftly avoiding the pools of rapidly-cooling blood left by Lord Yunrosh and his apprentices, her boot heels clacking loudly on the floor. Definitely needed to get off-world soon. In the meantime, maybe Darth Valere could recommend a good dry cleaner.


End file.
